A Cupful of Memories
by Cha0tic-Foxy
Summary: Finding a couple of old handmade mugs from his two colonial nations, England began to reminiscence his Imperial days... until America showed up. Just innocent fluff. US/UK -Sequel part one to this story has been uploaded!-
1. A Cupful of Memories: The Prequel

It was 11:30 am on a Wednesday.

England sighed heavily as he watched outside the window from his living room. The view wasn't at all pleasant from what he saw. The rain started to pour down madly; the sky looked grey and gloomy; and the wind began to wail like dying ghosts. He knew very well that the weather forecast mentioned that there would be rain showers but he never knew it would be this darn depressing.

It's not like he planned any special arrangements today, but it would be nice if he could have some warm, sunny daylight to enjoy, instead of watching an unpleasant climate.

"Hmph. There's no way in hell I'll let a simplistic rain into ruining my mood," said England out loud as he stood away from the window sill and sat onto his armchair. While he sat down, he reached out for a book he was reading and turned to the page where he left out. He silently read his book as the wind howled outside. This somehow set a perfect scary atmosphere since he's reading one of Stephen King's books: The Stand. In fact, he actually borrowed this book from America. He hated into admitting things, but this author is extremely superb! He had to say (for America's author), that his stories were fantastically horrific and ingenious, and England loved it! As for America, he wasn't fond in scary stories (as usual) and urged into lending his copies of Stephen King's books to England.

_America can be such a baby at times_, thought England.

**BAAAM!**

England was taken surprise when a lightning struck down from the sky. He tried to calm himself down as his hand was clutching onto his shirt. He could feel his heart pounding madly from the shock. "Bloody hell," grunted England as he broke a cold sweat. He felt in need of some warm drink to calm and enjoy his evening with his book. He rose from his armchair and left the room as he walked towards the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

As he entered, he went to the kitchen counter and took a kettle, filling it with water. He then set aside it and turned the gas on from the stove. He took out a flamer to set the fire and he placed the kettle onto the stove in initiating the boiling of the water. While he was at it, he laid out a tray and placed out all the necessary items he needed for the preparation of his tea.

With everything set, he walked face ward to the wall cabinet and opened the tiny door. In it where all sets of teacups and other fancy chinas. They were in different sizes, shapes, and colours. But that didn't matter to England. All he wanted were the mugs. If he wanted to want his tea last longer, it was logical enough to use a much bigger drinking cup instead in using a tiny teacup. He searched into the cabinet were he placed the mugs.

While he searched for a suitable mug for him, something caught within his eyesight on the far corner.

A couple of dusty and old handmade mugs were facing him. England looked at them questionably as he grabbed onto both them.

"What the?! What are couple of mangy and old mugs doing in there? Why would I--". His words were trailed off when he saw tiny words engraved on the bottom of the two mugs. He looked first at the smooth, aquamarine curved mug and read out the elegant cursive handwriting on the side of the mug.

_Brother England is the best! Love Canada. _

England smiled tenderly as he stroke at the mug, as if he just remembered something. This mug was surely made by Canada but it seemed England sensed he was missing important behind the mug. A faraway memory that was hard for him to grasp on.

His eyes shifted to the second mug. This mug wasn't at all that elegant as the first one. In fact, it has this bumpy and rough shape and the colour texture looked woody. It has these little drawings of fuzzy animals on it: a white bunny, a squirrel, a grizzly bear, and lastly a deer. Same as the blue mug, there were words written on the mug.

However, the handwriting was unreadable and hard to figure out some of the words. The writing style looked ugly and squiggly. England took his time into figuring out the words. Luckily, it didn't take him much longer until he understood what it said. He read the words out loud:

_Happy B-day England! Wish I could be stronger as you are! Love America._

England began to choke himself after he mouthed out the words. After recovering from the most horrifying and "near-death-experience" from a saliva attack he was choking on (poor England, having hard time breathing for not being able to swallow properly –chuckles-), England went back to the handmade mug from America.

Now England knew what kept bothering him about these mugs. They were made for him, especially for his birthday. Both of them were from Canada and America. He has been wondering why he kept them.

England heaved a huge sigh. Recalling his old times wasn't the pleasant thing for him. It made him looked old (and also SO tsundere). He set the two mugs back to the counter and messaged his fingertips against his temples, as if he was developing a migraine. Not wanting on letting himself down, he went back on baking some scones. With that decision, he tied his flowery patterned apron around his waist.

The doorbell rang.

England turned his head curiously. He never remembered inviting anyone at this time of the hour. The doorbell rang again.

"I'm coming," yelled England. He removed his baking mittens and placed them on the table. The number of doorbell rings grew numerous as England approached to the door.

"Be patient, dammit! Didn't I say I was comin—". His words were broke off when he opened the door. Right in front of his face was a drenched, grinning young male with bright blue eyes twinkling with excitement.

"Hey there England! What took you so long in answering the door?"

The Englishman just stood frozen with a shocking expression on his face. The young nation looked back at England, noticing the apron he was wearing.

"Pfft. Nice apron you're wearing. Hope I'm not interrupting to one of those imaginary friends tea party, aren't I?"

"A-America?! The bloody hell you're doing here?!" spattered England.

"Just walking pass by," answered America innocently.

"There is NO bloody way you could just walk by in front of my house casually. Now bugger off!"

"Cooome ooon, Iggy. Just let me shelter in your house till the showers are over?" America gave out a pouty, baby face.

"Yeah, yeah. Just don't make that face again. It creeps me out. And make sure you wipe your shoes under the entrance carpet and place your jacket on the clothing rack."

"Aaaah, you're so persistent England." American showed his usual stupid smile as he stepped into the house. He took off his brown jacket and hooked onto the racket. He placed his hands into his jean's pockets as he wondered aimlessly around the entrance. England was obviously not pleased for America's constant poking into his things.

"Would you mind stop moving around like a dim-witted duck and just take a darn seat?" grunted England.

"My, aren't you a very kind host," said America jokingly. England gritted his teeth with anger as America comfortably sat down on the couch in the living room. An unsettling silent fell upon them.

"Would you like some tea?" asked England. Obviously, he wasn't trying to be polite or offering anything to America. It's more like a 'make-fun-with-me-and-I'll-kick-your-arse" statement.

"Tea? Seriously, England. Who wanted to drink something that tastes SO tasteless? I rather have something strong like coffee."

America's response didn't helped England's temper at all. His anger began to boil within him as he mumbled profane words under his breath. He stomped furiously towards the kitchen and went to one of the cabinets were he usually kept the coffee (in case America randomly shows up into his home). At the same time, the kettle was hissing in a high pitch. Forgetting about the water boiling, England rushed to turn off the gas.

-----------------------------

America exhaled heavily and looked out of the window frame. He had an obvious reason for him to drop by England's house unexpectedly: his fears on horror movies. Ever since he was a small child, he would always read horror stories even though England told him not to. Every time he read those books, he would cry with fear and would have trouble sleeping alone. The only solution would have been sleeping with England to help him to feel safe.

Previously, America just watched a horror movie from the cinema. The story took place on a country town were strange things happened during the heavy rain falls. In fact, some people were traumatized mentally after their encounters of a mysterious black creature and after that those occurrences, they were—

America felt a cold shiver travelling down his spine (whether it was the cold weather or the movie, he wasn't sure). He could feel the goose bumps crawling up onto his skin. Hoping to find some distraction to cheer him up, he looked his nearest surroundings in the living room area. He caught sight of the book on the armchair England was reading. America heaved himself from the couch and peeked at it curiously at the book's cover.

America moaned. This was the book he lent to England since it was too scary for him to keep it. Just looking at the front cover of the The Stand is enough for him to shriek. He helplessly tossed the book back at the chair.

A sudden thought came up to him. He might as well go to the kitchen and just chill in there for awhile. He straightened his face, not wanting to give the impression to England that he got himself scared again and with that, he moved onward to the kitchen.

America poked his head out of the kitchen's door to see what England was doing. He could see the Englishman setting up his own tea and taking out a trayful of scones from the oven.

"Hope those scones weren't meant for me, are they England?"

The Englishman gave himself a jolt and turned around.

"Blimey hell America! Don't scare me like that!" England's face began to flush with red.

America snorted. "Geez England. You surely love to use those weird British slang words of yours." America came out from his hiding spot and stepped into the kitchen, looking around. "Is the coffee done yet?"

"Does it look like its ready?" snarled England.

"What's with the hold up? I thought you were making me the coffee."

"Are you THAT daft?! I was busy making these scones! If you don't want to wait, why don't you just make the bloody coffee yourself?! The water is still warm. I already placed the filter and coffee out on the counter."

He looked at the counter where England pointed him at. Sighing in defeat, he unscrewed the coffee container and took a spoonful amount of the brown powder into the filter. With his hand holding the filter, America looked around questionably.

"Hey Arthur. Where you usually keep the mugs?"

"They're at that wall cabinet." It seemed England wasn't paying much attention to him. Knowing trying to draw his attention was useless, America simply moved on to the cabinet.

He reached out for the cabinet's door and swung it open. His blue eyes traveled aimlessly inside the cabinet, as if there wasn't really anything in there. He stopped his movements when he saw the two mugs lying on the counter.

"What's this?" He went for the blue mug and looked at it curiously. England looked back at America to see what he was doing.

"Gah! Put that back America!" England became suddenly panicked. He didn't want to give the wrong impression to America that he still kept those mugs. America made a strange face at England. He looked back at the mug again.

"Eh? Is this mug from Canada? When did you get it?"

It seemed America was clueless of the other mug. As long as America doesn't see it, England was fine with that.

"Y-yes, it is! He actually made it for me as a birthday present," spattered England.

"Eeh? A handmade mug made from Canada? Actually, I'm not at all that surprised. Making handcrafts are for sissy boys.... well, except for you England (even though you do those girly embroideries). You're too violent and used to be a delinquent, hehe."

America casually laughed. England, on the other hand, did not find it amusing. He glared bitterly at him. Sensing his glare, America's laughter was cut off.

"Ah come. I was just kidding. I'll just put this mug back where it belon—Hey! There's another crummy-looking mug."

"A-Alfred! Stop poking around! Leave it!"

Unfortunately, England's words did not reach to America. For now, America was standing there, holding the brown mug, staring at it.

"Wait a second, England. This mug is also a birthday present for you, but it says it was made by me. I don't remember doing any dumb handcrafting. But, it looks familiar with those drawings..."

His words stopped. America took his time re-collecting his thoughts. He turned his face at England, his expression looking stunned.

"Wasn't this from long ago, when I was still a kid?"

England turned his face away from America, flushing with embarrassment. America widened his eyes with surprise.

"Seriously England. These presents are seriously cheap. I mean, I guess I understand why you would keep Canada's since his is SOO nice-looking, but gezz. Mine's?! Is someone being a bit TOO attached?"

England looked back at America dangerously. He has gone too far.

"Stop being such a damn prick and shut up already! I kept them because they meant something to me, got it you dumb, snotty-bastard?!" England's yelling hurt America's ears. He puffed heavily, trying to control himself. He could feel his throat unrestrained and hurtful for him to swallow.

"S-sorry England. It was just a joke." America knew his excuse wasn't good enough in asking forgiveness from England.

"Damn right you're sorry. You made it mainly for me. You kept on asking back then on what sort of gifts I like and I replied anything from you will do. For Pete's sake America, I did it for you!"

"F-for me?! It took me awhile on what present I should get for you. I mean.....I thought you wouldn't like anything that weren't handmade so I thought I might as well do mugs with Canada, since he was making one and I needed his help and all...."

America has put himself in an awkward situation. He scratched his head and smiled nervously. England gawked at him.

"Seriously Alfred, you should know by now that I don't care how good or expensive the gifts are. Is the thought that counts. Just don't give me something vulgar like France does in everyone's birthdays. Then you're asking yourself a ticket to 'kick-in-the-arse' land."

This time England laughed all heartedly. America watched him as he was having his own fun time. The young nation let out a sigh of relief and smiled back.

"Yeah. You got a point there."

Both the blond men spent their time in the kitchen, preparing their hot beverages and eating hot scones (which turned out to burnt, of course). The two men hadn't realized the rain stopped moments ago as they spent their time together chatting away.

-------

The grandfather clock from the living room struck at 4:00 in the afternoon. The bell's sound travelled to the kitchen.

"Blimey. Is it really that late? It feels we've been here for ages!"

"Haha, yeah. And look, the rain is gone too!"

"Well, you won't have any problems in getting back to your house, do you America?"

"Eer, yeah."

Both the two nations rose from the small kitchen table and went to the entrance door. America slowly reached for his jacket from the clothing rack.

"Uhm, well. This is goodbye then," said America.

"Indeed it is," replied England.

America slowly went for the doorknob. His hand stopped in midair.

"Erm, England?"

"What is it, Alfred?"

"Can I stay over here tonight?"

"Let me guess... You saw a horror movie."

"H-how did you know?!"

"Sigh. I know you too well, America. I know you too well."

THE END.

**Author's Note:** Well, since I've decided to continue this series, there will be a sequel to "A Cupful of Memories" on England's past. :) Part 1 of the sequel is already written, however, the story is not yet finished. So, stay tuned~ :D


	2. The Meaning of a Birthday I: The Sequel

It was early in the evening. About 5:45 pm to be exact. The Englishman kept his constant eye on the grandfather clock, tapping his foot impatiently while he was sitting on the couch.

_ Bloody hell. He said he'll be here soon._

England was anticipating for someone's arrival. However, it seemed our unknown visitor would be coming late for now. He heaved a sigh as he reached for his tea, draining a few drinks from the warm liquid down his throat. He let out a satisfying "ah" sound from his mouth and stared blankly at his surroundings.

Today is the 23rd April. The Day of St. George... and also... England's birthday.

Every year, the nations would celebrate their birthdays to rejoice their foundations. The day when they gained independence and finally became their own; the day where they overpowered their rulers and freely celebrate their culture; the day to remember and enjoy their freedom.

But his birthday was a different story. His birthday was named after the great saint patron of England, St. George, who was actually a brave Roman soldier who wanted justice for the Christians from the brutal torture of the Romans. He had always stayed to his beliefs, staying true to himself, and stood proud and faithful for his people until his death. England had always honoured for such great heroes like him and heard stories on his battle requests such as his fight against the fire-breathing dragons.

Surely, that was long time ago. His national day in this modern society wasn't celebrated by his own people. It was more like they forgot the day even existed. But England wasn't bothered at all. Birthdays weren't his thing and he wasn't even that kind of person who would make a fuss over such an event. If his people decided to act as his birthday was just like any ordinary day, he would too. After all, birthdays are meaningless to him anyways. He's too old for it.

Yet, he vaguely remembered the time when his birthday meant something to him in the past. He leaned his body backwards against the sofa, losing his self-conscious as he drift into his day-dream.

England began to sigh heavily as he heaved piles of paperwork onto his working table. He was in his study room, trying to catch up his work, rubbing his forehead in frustration. The quill on his hands began to scribble furiously against the paper, hoping to finish his work soon before midnight. He wasn't fond in over-working but yet His and Her Majesty requested numerous paperwork files being sent back to his home country. It was an emergency that needed to be solved. He let himself drown into his work, taking a large sip from his cup before he made a refill. As England went on, he heard a tiny knocking on the door. Before he could answer it, the door slowly opened, revealing a small 7 years old boy with golden short hair and his ocean blue eyes beaming through his bangs. He looked at England with a discomfort expression.

"Englaaaand. When will you be done with your work?" The little nation whined in his baby voice.

"Ah America! What are you doing up so late? Right now is way past your bedtime and you fully know of it mister!" England wasn't pleased to see his little colony up late at night. He stood up from his chair and walked front of America, his arms crossed and his voice stern. Even though for many years England has been worked both a nation and a soldier, he has developed these fatherly instincts for his young colony in order to protect him.

"But Iggy! You promised this afternoon you would read both me and Canada a story tonight," America puffed his cheeks and stomped angrily one foot on the floor. His childish behaviour didn't brought the attention to England that America needed.

"I know I promised and I did." He sighed. "But Alfred, look at the work I've been piled up today. I wasn't even notified of this till later and it's an emergency. I could read you another time. You can understand, can you?" The older nation knelt down to meet the same height level as America, ruffling his hair to calm the younger nation.

America;s eyes fell to the ground, upset by England for not fulfill his promise. Tears began to whelm in his eyes, dripping big and fat teardrops as they went down at the end of his cheeks. England's eyes grew wide open as he saw America crying.

"A-ah! Don't cry America. I'm truly sorry that I broke our promise and you'll still hate me for breaking it but don't cry please. I really don't like to see you this sad."

Yet despite his comforting words, the little nation continued to cry, both his hands wiping his tears forming in his eyes. England looked at him with a desperate look to calm the child down.

"H-how about this! I can read one story. A really great one." America looked up to England's face, sniffing through his wet and snotty nostrils, his blue eyes glistened like the sparkling reflection of the sun's rays on the ocean's surface.

"B-but England... D-don't you have w-work to do?" America choked at his words for having cried a lot. England returned a gentle smile, patted the young nation's head. "I'm sure I have some time to read at least _one _story." He gave himself a cheerful chuckle as he watched his son rejoiced with such a thrilled expression.

"Alright! I'll go back to the bedroom and wake up Canada! Be there!" And within an instant flash, America dashed out of the room within seconds. He had to admit, the youngster surely had such an amazing energy ever since he was little. He smiled weakly as he followed America.

---------------------------------------

Inside the bedroom, both the young nations were wide awake, bundled up under the bed covers as England walked into their room. America noticed something different.

"Hey England...What's with the book? It looks quite old." America looked at questionably at England while Canada, who was next to him, was wrapping his arms around his polar bear, Kumajiro, trying to stay awake from his droopy eyes. England's smile spread wider at his two little infants.

"This time it would be different. This book is quite a special one. It's actually a collection of legendary stories." England said his words with pride as he patted the bookcover. The excitement grew on America's face, his eyes shining with those intense blue eyes.

"L-legendary?! You hear that Canada! England is going to read us a really cool story!" Taken surprise by America's sudden outburst, Canada woke up from his dreary dream, clueless to what just happened.

"I-I'm sorry. What just happened? I wasn't really paying attention." Canada shyly looked away when he noticed his brother's discontented face.

England wasn't at all pleased to see his little nations' reactions. "I don't think this is the right time to read a story since Canada is already worn out. Maybe tomorrow will be the best time to do so."

"N-no!" America gave out a pleading cry for England to stay but he didn't. He looked at Canada with hateful glare, building the blame on him. Canada gulped as he felt a sudden heavy weight of guilt building inside of him.

"N-no England! I'mm wide awake! See? I.. I was.... just dazing off. Ha..haha," said Canada nervously. England eyed suspiciously from his back but changed his mind. He sat on a chair next to the two colonies and began to flip the pages open. America became all jumpy and excited as he squatted next to England; Canada came closer as well. He looked curiously at the chapter that England opened to.

"Who's this 'St. George' England?" asked Canada as he looked questionably at the book's title.

"It's about this brave Roman soldier who fought a ferocious dragon to save a poor princess chosen as a sacrifice from her own kingdom."

England could feel America jolted straight up from the bed, with a fierce face of determination and courage. His warm smile spread all over his face at his two children as he began to read out loud to them.

..................

At least an hour flew by. Both the young nations were already fallen asleep. England, trying his best not to disturb, slowly lifted himself up from the chair and kiss gently on each others' foreheads.

"Night America. Night Canada. Sweet dreams."

He blew off the candle light and gently closed the door as he went back towards his study room.

The bedroom fell silent as the two nations submerged into their sweet dreams of wild adventures and discovering new friendships.

Little did they know, England's birthday was just a week away. They never knew when his birthday was or what gifts they should bring. They soon found out about it the next day.

TO BE CONTINUED

**Author's note: **PREQUEL PART ONE IS HERE! Enjoy. :D


	3. The Meaning of a Birthday II: The Sequel

Morning has dawned over the gardens of England's home, filled with soothing sounds of crickets and birds as Spring has coming to an end. England was off to town for work-related issues, leaving both America and Canada running around the flowered fields, enjoying the lovely sweet scents and warmth around their surroundings. Minutes went by as the two young nations were absorbed into their games.

Lunchtime was ready and Mrs. Margaret Heartworth, an elderly nanny who has been serving England for at least 10 years and took care for both America and Canada very dearly, called over. "Alfred! Matthew! It's time to eat!" As soon they head her calling, both America and Canada rushed back into house, screaming in delight. Mrs. Heartworth chuckled, following and instructing that young boys should have a quick bath before having their lunch.

With their bath taken and fully dressed back into their formal clothes, America and Canada reached to the dining table, giving out a polite 'thank you' as one of the maids served them the food on the plates. The maid returned back to her duty, leaving the nations alone eating off their plates.

As they went onto eating their meal, something caught from America's eyes. He took a glance at the opened door which led to the long-running corridors. He saw several of servants and two strange men passing by, whispering rapidly to one another as they crowded in the far corner.

"Need....talk....important....matters."

"He's...busy...currently unavailable..."

"Alright....I'll...just leave...this ..."

"We're off now. Don't forget to inform England about this."

"Yes sir. I'll let Master England know about it."

The two strangers, appearing to be satisfied, headed back to the main doors, where their carriages awaiting them. America became suddenly curious when he heard the word 'England' mentioned in the conversation. He carefully dismounted from his chair and slipped against the wall to have a closer view. He could see worried expressions from the servants.

"Oh deary me. This is certainly will be bad news for England. Especially on such a special day for him to work on," said Mrs. Heartworth.

"There's nothing we can do, Margaret. It's an important matter that needed to be solved," said the elderly butler, John, who seemed to be upset. "But John, the kids won't be able to get the chance to celebrate their first time on England's birthday!" bawled Susan, a fairly recently new and in her mid-twenties nanny who worked in the Kirkland residence for at least 3 years. "This is unbearable! It's the same thing ever year! I swear to God that they surely doing this on purpose! Family is important and yet they keep on doing this every time. This pisses me off!"

"SUSAN! Mind your manners! I know you're upset but be careful with your words. What if the children heard you? Have some decency inside of you." Mrs. Heartworth eyed angrily but yet a hint of sadness and distress was also in her tone.

Susan cast her eyes down on the floor, mumbling in apology. "Sorry Mrs. Heartworth for losing my temper there. I-It's just... If he didn't leave soon, the kids would be able to celebrate their first time on England's birthday." Her words trailed off into silence as she stood there between John the Butler and Mrs. Heartworth.

John walked beside Susan's side and placed his hand firmly onto her shoulder, reassuring that everything would turn out to be okay, even though it's a sad part for both America and Canada will not be able to stay with England for awhile. "Susan, there's nothing we can do now. England will be off in 9 days by the day of his birthday and be gone at least over 9 months."

"WHAT?! HE WON'T BE HERE FOR CHRISTMAS EVEN?!"

"Sssssh! Susan! Lower your voice. Remember, the kids shouldn't know about this," whispered Mrs. Heartworth. Susan nodded her head in acknowledgement but couldn't face the fact that this unstable trend of Arthur going off back to England and stay too long over there would disrupt his time with the little nations and would miss every moment.

He'll miss everything. He won't get the chance to see them grow; witnessing them to have new experiences and stories they had; and also, watching them to become big and fine men that their own people will be proud of.

Yes, it was a pity that England couldn't stay any longer.

America blinked blankly as he gazed at the departed servants to resume their chores.

_So England is going back to his home country again? This means I won't have the chance to see him for at least another year. I don't want him to go away again! Not after he finally got back!_

"This...is...unfair." America could feel his voice tensed and suppressed while his eyes began to water so badly. He quickly dried of his tears as he rubbed furiously his arm sleeve against his eyes.

He had to do something. He knew he really can't postpone England's traveling plans, no matter how much he begged and cried intensely for him to stay with him longer. But there had to be something he could do. That he, England, and Canada could make their last time together a big and everlasting memoir. Yes, like giving him a special gift. A present.

Hold on. A present? Didn't the servants mention that England's birthday was coming soon? Why was he left out from the fact of England's birthday?! Well, it's not like the nation didn't know that England had a birthday but somehow the older nation didn't mentioned to his colonies about it and left them excluded. There had to be a reason why he did so, right?

"That's it!" America's shrieked voice boomed out loudly a sudden and brilliant idea came into his head. He then rushed back to the dining room before any of the servants will have their suspicions of his absence. Once he arrived, he found Canada still eating from his plate, with little Kumajiro snoozing into a deep sleep as he rested on his lap. His mouth was splattered into one huge grin as he walked in front of his brother nation.

"Mattie! I've got the greatest plan for England and I need your help!"

Eyeing with curiosity, Canada stared back at America, taking in the details from the plan as America rumbled on with excitement.

* * *

**Author Note:** Holy--! It's been a LONG time enough and I still didn't bother to update this story! _ I mean, yeah, there were sometimes I was busy with university and exams which I couldn't focus on finishing this chapter, but come on! It's been 6 months from the last update, right? I could have finished a chapter by December or January but no. My 'inspiration' on writing this story was kinda lost/blocked. x_X;

Again, won't expect another update till about end of April, when I'm done with my Finals? Thanks. I can't believe my last midterm exam was just 3 days ago, by the time the finals are about to come around. Really, what a whacky schedule! Dx

But yeah, besides ranting myself and my life, hope you find this chapter good enough. I know it's hard for me (and some of you guys too, I know you experience this) that you feel you're not writing something interested like you used to because some dumb artist block.

Cheerio~ :D


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